Once a little boy sent me a charming card with a little drawing on it. I loved...– Maurice Sendak
wordsinajar: She has her smile sculpted to her face. Blush painted in pigments on her cheeks And eyes wide even when she was staring at the sun. See this doll was the definition of dolled up But you could never guess this toy’s stories. At first she was a gift. But the giving was a curse When what they had passed away. She was passed on. Then passed on. Made passes to. From a boy that just...
wordsinajar: There is something breathtaking In the way a mother holds her child. Cradles him like a shotgun to her breast. Clutches her like change and possibility. Counts their blessings like seconds to infinity. Holds their hand like it was the only dream She’s ever had and she’s too proud to let go. Teaches them to embrace life And weave their lives in thread with others Before they try...
For me, the contemplation of life’s deepest mysteries happens in the shower or on public transit. It’s the only time we only really have ourselves for company anymore.
The Hardest Job Everyone Thinks They Can Do
buntsfromaleftcoastgirl: This piece was inspired by a heated discussion I had with a man who believes that teachers have an easy job. Please feel free to share it with others if you agree with the message. I used to be a molecular biologist. I spent my days culturing viruses. Sometimes, my experiments would fail miserably, and I’d swear to myself in frustration. Acquaintances would ask how my...